for a moment of joy or moments no one pays for, i give myself a ‘jornal’. this makes me rich. try it.

5 one-line poems at UndertheBasho (UtB)

where creation begins and ends onion scales


smoke and grey hair grandfather’s syllables receding the hours


fraught trail the tightness of wild lace shadowless


unbecoming is the moon because of bruises?


shrunken between trumpeted lies and ripped drums the ageing boor



UndertheBasho one-line poem  2020 July 11


July 29, 2020 - Posted by | Uncategorized

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